


It Keeps You Healthy, But At What Cost?

by ilostmyshoe



Series: A Good Man is Hard to Be (aka Sam Wilson is a National Treasure) [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, Coping, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Running, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe/pseuds/ilostmyshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Sam goes running without Steve.</p><p>Technically, Sam goes running without Steve fairly often: he tries to run at least a couple of miles every day, and he misses enough days due to his own obligations. If he also skipped every day Steve was busy, he’d be lucky just to get in a day or two each week—not nearly enough to keep his all-too-human body in fighting shape.</p><p>But there are days—not often, but every month or two—when Steve is available and uninjured and ready to go, and Sam still asks to run alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Keeps You Healthy, But At What Cost?

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks again to my once-and-future beta reader: [stars_inthe_sky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/pseuds/stars_inthe_sky/works).

Sometimes, Sam goes running without Steve.

Technically, Sam goes running without Steve fairly often: he tries to run at least a couple of miles every day, and he misses enough days due to his own obligations. If he also skipped every day Steve was busy, he’d be lucky just to get in a day or two each week—not nearly enough to keep his all-too-human body in fighting shape.

But there are days—not often, but every month or two—when Steve is available and uninjured and ready to go, and Sam still asks to run alone.

Steve never complains; the first time, all it took was Sam’s saying, “Actually, man, I’d rather go by myself today. That cool with you?”

After a second of confusion Steve smiled reassuringly and said, “Yeah, of course. Have a good run. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Later.” Sam’s mouth quirked in a wry half smile, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Steve’s lips before heading out.

Since then, they use a shorthand of, _Not today? Okay, see you later_ —the whole exchange over in less time than it takes Sam to tie on his running shoes. Sometimes, he wishes that even that amount of discussion wasn’t necessary, that his posture or expression or something could let Steve know when Sam wants to go alone. But then he reminds himself that he’s being unreasonable; Steve has many strengths, but he isn’t a mind-reader.

Steve doesn’t ask why Sam wants to run alone sometimes, and Sam never offers to explain. He suspects Steve has his own ideas. He’s also pretty sure those ideas are wrong, but maybe it’s for the best that Steve not know the truth.

Sam running without Steve isn’t about competitiveness or insecurity. As much as Sam likes to give Steve shit (and vice versa), he’s long since figured out ways to pace himself based on how long it takes Steve to lap him.

When Sam asks Steve to stay home, it’s because he’s reached a point where he isn’t really running for exercise. He’s running for the pain—for the burn in his legs, the ache in his lungs, and the overwhelming exhaustion that narrows his awareness to his body and the pain and nothing else. When he finally stumbles and collapses onto the grass beside the path he’s stopped thinking about yesterday or tomorrow or the team or Steve or anything. There’s just the pain, and that’s enough.

He’s sore for days afterwards, though he self-medicates with protein shakes and hot-water soaks and tries not to show it. It’s worth it, though, because after he pushes himself to that breaking point he feels…at peace—at least for the next couple of weeks.

Sam doesn’t want Steve to see him like that—intentionally pushing himself past what’s healthy. Usually he can hold out for a day when Steve is busy and Sam would be running on his own anyway, but sometimes the need blindsides him, and then he’s forced into the cycle of _Not today?_ _Okay, see you later_ —avoiding Steve’s eyes and hoping this isn’t the day his boyfriend pushes for an explanation.

*   *   *   *   *

Today’s run was just like every other mad dash toward temporary oblivion. Sam collapsed onto the grass and used his last ounce of energy to roll over and lie flat on his back. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but his mind was just starting to refocus when a shadow crossed over his face. He sighed without opening his eyes and said, “If you’re here to kill me, be my guest. Just…don’t expect me to move. Okay?”

“Think I’ll pass. I’m pretty sure it’d piss Steve off. Probably not worth it.” Sam heard Bucky sit down beside him.

Sam let his head roll heavily to the side and opened his eyes just enough to squint at his friend. “Good to know you care—at least about Steve.”

Bucky shrugged and tilted his head in mock contemplation. “Also, you’re on the enemy team for laser tag this weekend. I don’t want people saying I cheated by taking you out early.”

“And by ‘people you mean Nat?”

“Maybe.” Bucky laid back next to Sam with his hands behind his head. “Probably. She’s definitely scarier than Steve.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“Go ahead. It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.”

Sam grunted in agreement, and the silence stretched almost comfortably between them.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Bucky sounded detached, almost distracted.

“Currently? Lying on the grass with a mouthy ex-assassin who doesn’t mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah? I thought I was pretty clear, too.”

Bucky didn’t let the silence last as long the second time. “He’s worried about you.”

“No reason to be. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but functional. And if I had to go into battle today I’d make it work. I pull my weight. I thought I’d proven that to you superheroes by now.”

“Bullshit. That’s not the issue, and you know it.”

“Oh, fuck you, Barnes. I keep myself in fighting shape for the team. How I do that is my business and no one else’s.” Sam’s voice was flat and matter-of-fact.

Bucky scoffed. “Are you shitting me? Do you actually—if you really think after all this time that Steve—or any of us—only cares about your usefulness in a fight, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Hey. Watch it. I may be too exhausted to move, but I can still beat your cyborg ass,” Sam said, lifting his right arm slowly off the ground and forming a shaky fist.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and laughed.

Sam let his hand drop down again. “Fine, then, I’ll get your girlfriend to do it later. At least she appreciates the importance of privacy.”

“Yeah? Well, I grew up with Steve. If I’d ‘appreciated’ his ‘privacy’ the world wouldn’t have Captain America, and you wouldn’t have a boyfriend. So, I think the phrases you’re looking for are ‘Thank you,’ and maybe, ‘Here’s what crawled up my ass.’”

Sam snorted. “You aren’t _my_ childhood friend—and I’m not Steve.”

“Right. My mistake. None of that applies to you, because _you_ are a perfectly rational and well-adjusted human being, definitely not the nobly self-sacrificing or quietly self-destructive type.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

They laid in silence again.

“Okay. Dropping everything to help Steve save the world and then search for your sorry ass might not be ‘rational and well-adjusted,’” Sam said at last.

“Probably not,” Bucky agreed.

“But what else was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Here’s some breakfast, have a nice life?’ It’s Steve. Doing everything I could to help, trying to be worthy of his respect, it all felt as natural—fuck, as _necessary_ —as breathing.”

“I get it,” Bucky said. “And if it’s any consolation, he was like that even when he was five feet tall and ninety-eight pounds.”

Sam looked over at Bucky with a crooked grin. “Actually, yeah, that does make me feel a little less pathetic. Thanks.”

“Any time.” Bucky returned Sam’s grin then turned his attention back to the cloudless sky. “So, is that what this is about, then? Too much Steve?”

Sam sighed. “Maybe. Part of it. But other stuff, too. You know, I almost can’t remember what it felt like, having my own life. There was the Air Force and then there was Steve and all this Avengers business, and the time in between feels…I don’t know…almost like a dream, or a story that happened to somebody else.”

“You miss it?”

“Sometimes. I liked it—at least, I thought I did—but I wonder: if it was so great, why was I so eager to throw myself back into battle? Was it just because of Steve? Really What would I be doing now if he and Nat hadn’t shown up at my door that day? Would I still be at the V.A.? Would I have found somewhere else to fight? Would I be happy?”

Bucky squinted at the sky. “I’m assuming you haven’t talked to Steve about this.”

“Nah. He’d feel guilty, and I’d just feel shittier. It’s not his fault—not really—and there’s nothing he can do to fix it, so…”

“Got it,” Bucky sighed. “And you can’t talk to any of the other Avengers?”

“Not really. I’m supposed to be the emotionally stable one—the one that calls Steve on his shit, finds Wanda a grief counselor, and listens when Rhodey needs to vent. If they knew about…this…they’d look at me differently. They couldn’t trust me the same way. That’s not gonna happen. There’s a reason therapists don’t complain to their clients.”

“You’re not the team’s therapist.”

“Not officially, but close enough. The idea still applies.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Sam shrugged. “It is what it is. Most of the time I’m fine, really. I’ve got pretty solid coping mechanisms. I can take care of myself and support the team the way they need.”

“That actually works?”

“Mostly. When it doesn’t, I do this. It hurts like hell—which is basically the point—but it gets me where I need to be mentally. It may not be ideal, but it’s enough.”

“Well, I can’t tell you how to live your life, but you do know somebody who has experience dealing with Steve and his…Steve-ness, and is intimately familiar with the struggle of _‘What if xyz never happened…?’_ —and if Natalia’s busy, I’m also willing to listen.”

Sam pushed himself up to sitting and looked at Bucky thoughtfully. “Thanks, man. That…really means a lot.”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He got to his feet and offered Sam a hand. “So, ready to go home?”

Sam took the offered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Bucky grinned evilly. “Race you?”

“What? Oh, hell no!” Sam’s laugh turned into a wheeze. Bucky alternated between running circles around Sam and running backwards in front of him all the way back to the Avengers’ base. Sam grumbled as he dragged himself along, still breathing heavily. Then, as they neared the main doors, he sprinted and jumped onto Bucky’s back, forcing him to carry Sam piggyback. Sam let out a whoop of triumph as they entered the building and felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.

*   *   *   *   *

Sometimes, Sam goes running without Steve. It’s one of many coping strategies he uses to deal with stress. Healthy eating and regular exercise are important. So are listening to music and spending time with his boyfriend. Sometimes, when Sam needs to talk about something, he has tea with Bucky, beers with Rhodey, or shots with Natasha and Maria.

And, every once in a while, Sam goes running without Steve and pushes himself past the point of exhaustion.

Sometimes Bucky comes, too.


End file.
